


Just a Little, Ol' Magic

by lil_bonsai



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Fairies, Gen, Wholesome, england is such a dad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:48:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26080681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lil_bonsai/pseuds/lil_bonsai
Summary: Would England rather be seen in the women's bathroom or show up at a summit having wet himself? Tough decision, but at least one of them introduces him to a new world of magical friends.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	Just a Little, Ol' Magic

Once announced that it was time for a break, England got up from his seat and discreetly jogged to the door, trying to keep his urinary urgency low-profile. For two hours he had been holding it in, and as quickly as the stalls of the men’s bathroom filled up due to half of them malfunctioning, England had no qualms against using the women’s bathroom. That was, as long as no one saw him. Frankly, he’d take being seen in the women’s bathroom any day over showing up at a Summit with the crotch area of his pants a darker hue.

There was however nothing that could have prepared him for this toilet visit.

Being quick, England swiftly waltzed into one of the women’s stalls, rejoicing knowing that none of the others were occupied. He did his duty with a sound sigh of relief, and it was when he pulled up his boxers that he saw the black figure peeking up from the toilet water. The colors drained from his face. With a screech more octaves higher than he had ever reached before, England stumbled into the stall door, his eyes frozen in place. Too frightened to move, a catastrophical cycle of imaginary events foreboding that this creature would be responsible for his death if he did, England locked eyes with the creature, its glowing, green pools of nothingness hidden behind a thick, wet, mop of hair-like threads. Anything that could potentially exist beneath its eyes was hidden under water, and in the blink of an eye, it ducked under.

Like a car in heavy traffic, England moved not an inch; Not with his fingers, not with his eyes, not with his lungs despite how badly he wanted to scream again. When the…  _ Thing _ , didn’t show signs of coming back, England slowly unlocked the door while still facing the toilet, slithering through the little gap, before closing the door as quietly as possible. Usually he would have flushed, but there was no way in the name of Her Majesty the Queen that he dared approach the toilet again. He listened in closely in case he had missed the sound of  _ it  _ returning, finally pulling up his pants and washing his hands when he heard nothing.

He had surely thought he’d prefer the women’s toilet over showing the other nations that he had pissed himself, but now he wasn’t so sure.

“Britain!” called a cushioned voice when England returned to the conference hall where all the EU and EEA nations were present, “ _ Mon Dieu _ , you look like you just saw a ghost!”

England took his seat next to France who sent him a teasing smile, fighting fiercely to not show the aftereffects of his preposterous bathroom visit. He disguised his lack of reply as his usual bitterness toward the Frenchman, knowing that no one would think anything of it.

The meeting commenced once again, France taking the lead by presenting an economical prognosis that the G4 had been calculating a few months prior. Now, England would have gladly listened so he could point out the flaws and give unsolicited advice to satisfy his superiority complex over France, hadn’t it been for his brain working on high speed to process the toilet-incident. In fact, England could still hear his heartbeat ringing in his ears as cold sweat formed a puddle on his back. What in the  _ bloody hell  _ had he just witnessed?

_ I must be jet lagged _ , he initially thought, then remembering that the time zone between his homeland and the one in which the meeting was being held differentiated by one hour. Fair enough, perhaps it wasn’t jet lag. England found himself spiraling down the timeline of his past week, digging for something that could serve as a cause for this strange hallucination. Had he eaten something bad? Had he tripped and hit his head? Lack of sleep? He twirled his thumbs miffedly when he realized that none could apply. In his fit of muted irkedness, a soft presence appeared on his shoulder and nuzzled to his cheek. Of course England said nothing as he didn’t want to disturb the meeting, and he knew that the pixie needed no words to know that her presence was acknowledged. And gratefully so.

She asked him question after question about why he was so stiff and lost in thoughts, tugging at his hair and ears when he didn’t reply. She flew in circles around his head, passing his field of vision more times than could be counted on two hands, eventually landing on the top of his head when he showed no signs of moving. Trying a last time, the pixie asked him what was wrong before England felt her stiffen slightly.

_ "What’s the matter?"  _ England asked with the sign language he and his magical friends had made up to communicate when he had to refrain from speaking. Although the pixie carried a weight as light as nothing, he felt her leave his side as she determined floated toward the other side of the room; Toward the members of the European Economic Area. Wanting to hiss what in the world she was doing but being unable to do so, England attached his gaze and followed her intently as if his eyes were to shoot daggers. If she kept going, she’d disrupt other nations-

England wondered if he had let out that snort out loud or if it was just internal. Of course, the pixie wouldn’t bother anyone because no one but England could see her in the first place. Leaning back, he felt a small weight lift from his chest as he now had one less thing to worry about. He watched as the tiny azure-haloed creature attempted to establish contact with Liechtenstein, and he imagined how good friends they would have become had Liechtenstein been able to see her. The pixie played with her bow, admiring the elegance of its color, and stopped when the girl didn’t respond. It seemed like the pixie was looking for something, but not knowing where to look. Disappointed, she flew over to a half-asleep Iceland, who sat next to Liechtenstein. Neither he paid the pixie any heed as she was outside of his perceptive register, but looked questioning when the bow on his shirt loosened due to her pulling it. He looked around, at the pixie even, and tied the laces when he saw nothing. Again, the pixie hung with her head as she left his side.

Not to say that England was his magical friends’ guardian, but as he watched her failing missions, he felt like a father waiting for his child to gain some friends. The feeling excavated a few recollections of America when he was no taller than a half-pint, and England let his eyes wander along with the little pixie.

In a final attempt, the pixie approached Norway, and started looking around determined, similar to a dog catching the whiff of a treat. Neither England nor probably the pixie expected the effort to bear fruit, so when Norway suddenly snapped back from a daze, as if he had caught the buzzing of a wasp and looked around for it, England couldn’t help but lean forward slightly in anticipation. He watched closely as the younger nation’s eyes matched the movements of the pixie. Although his deadpan expression was hard to decipher, the way he followed her with his eyes, occasionally sending a puff in her direction to playfully blow her away, for her to then come back and do it again, England was certain he could see her. His assumption proved its truthfulness when Norway lifted his hat slightly, and a fairy came out to shyly greet the pixie. When he let go of his hat, the little sprites began flying around in an aureole of glitter, and Norway’s detached stare returned to the focus of the meeting.

…

When the pink afternoon sky rolled around and the nations gathered their scarves and thick coats, England affixed his stare to Norway on the other side of the room, who seemed to be brushing off a one-sided conversation with Denmark. France had a few minutes prior asked England to go out and find a decent dinner place, shrugging and saying he’d go with someone else when England answered he had to do something. He wouldn’t call it a stakeout mission, but would deliberately and discreetly follow the Scandinavian because his pixie was stuck playing with the fairy on top of his hat, and England knew no better method of getting her back than to stalk someone till he was noticed.

When Norway exited the conference hall with Iceland, Denmark hanging over them like a tax that hadn’t been paid, England followed right behind as gingerly as possible.

They approached the bathroom. England could just catch Denmark and Iceland having to go for a piss from behind the fake plant he hid behind. Norway kept walking, mumbling something about “outside”.

_ I’ll wait for you outside _ , probably. When Norway had created a distance big enough that England wouldn’t look like he was trailing him, he stepped forth from behind the plant, oblivious to the few suspecting looks he got from surrounding nations, and embarked on his little mission.

It was surprisingly easy to trail the northern nation as he seemed too out of touch with his surroundings to notice the stalking. If he didn’t know better, England could be talking next to him about how pretentious he acted about his fierce (and very short-lasting) resistance against Germany back in 1940, and he wouldn’t bat an eye. Now outside, England watched from the building entrance as Norway made his way to the fountain, just standing there as he waited for his entourage, sporadically exchanging some words with the fairies swirling around his head. At some point the fairy that wasn’t England’s whispered in his ear, and he turned his head and locked eyes with the Englishman who spied on him from the door.

England’s body immediately stiffened as he had not the slightest idea of where to go, resulting in an awkward clearing of the throat as he approached the young nation whose eyes conveyed not a single message.

“W-well, hello there, Norway,” England greeted in an attempt to sound natural, and not at all like he had attentively kept an eye on him for the past three hours.

“Do you need anything?” Norway asked with a voice as impassive as his face. England observed him for a few seconds before balancing his weight on one leg and scratching the back of his head. Why even bother trying to keep up a facade?

“It seems like Pixie found company in that little fairy of yours,” he said and felt the forced smile on his face becoming more earnest.

Norway looked at the creatures and put out his palm for his fairy to sit on, and the pixie flew back to the shoulder of her rightful safeguard. The fairies kept conversing from where they sat, and although none of them understood each other's language, their silly pantomime was enough to convey their messages.

“So you have these creatures as well, huh,” England exhaled, his eyes fixated on the supernatural conversation.

“Yeah,” Norway replied, about to elaborate briefly on who his little fairy was when England’s jaw nearly dropped to the ground and he took a lengthy step backward. At first, Norway was befuddled and wondered if there was something strange on his face or clothes, but realized that the self-proclaimed gentleman was looking past him and into the fountain.

“Wh-wh-what-it’s  _ it _ !” England heaved, his eyes doubled in size. Norway turned around, and although he was expressionless by nature, England had at least expected a tiny jump or a quiet whimper.

“Don’t be afraid,” the younger of the two said reassuringly and approached the fountain to sit down on the ledge, right where the familiar, black-haired monstrosity peeked up from the water. Even the fairy left his palm and sat down to greet  _ it _ . When Pixie’s curiosity got the better of her and took after the others, England forced himself to loosen up and put one foot in front of the other till he stood close enough to the fountain that he could examine the unsightly creature in detail.

“We call him  _ Nøkken _ ,” Norway explained and reached a hand to jokingly splash a little bit of water onto it, “He used to only show up in lakes and rivers, but nowadays he shows up wherever there is water.” A shudder went down England’s spine as he wondered if it could show up  _ anywhere _ . Did he have to be cautious of his own home as well?

“I-” England started, suddenly embarrassed thinking of the first encounter he had had with this water sprite. Here he had thought that this was some crazy manifestation of his mind, or an evil being capable of killing him, but it turned out it was just a little, ol' magic! He came close to the ledge and looked down upon it, his heart no longer pounding against his rib cage. Instead, he let his fearful wrinkles soften into an amused smile.

“I’m sorry for earlier,” he said to the creature and squatted down briefly in hopes that direct eye contact didn’t come off as a threat.

“Oh, have you already met?” Norway inquired, pulling his coat tighter around his slight body when a gush of December wind engulfed them.

“I met him in the bathroom,” England mumbled, a tad embarrassed about the mental images his answer might bring forth. A faint chuckle came from the other nation.

“That tends to happen,” he replied simply, which eventually became the conclusion for their encounter.

As England made his way back to the hotel, his breaths looking like ghosts dancing in the twilight, another presence accompanied him and the pixie.

“Flying Mint-bunny!” he cheered, letting the green sprite nuzzle his nose before floating next to him. The bunny often paid his presence when England was walking somewhere by himself, in this case back to the hotel, and England wasn’t entirely sure of why. He did have a theory, though, that suggested that they were afraid of a fateful day when they would be forgotten, which they had witnessed happen to many nations already. Being creatures that danced on the fine line between perception and oblivion, it must be such a frightening experience when one after one, circles of magical beings crossed over. To be alive, but to no one’s acknowledgement… England didn’t even want to think about such misery. If he could start some sort of animal protection for these supernatural blessings, he would. But since there were too few who still believed in them, all he could do was to make sure that the nations who could still see them would never lose sight of them.

“Pixie, Mint-bunny,” the Englishman said over the snow crunching underneath his shoes. He gave each of them a soft, yet determined, pet on their heads. He wanted to tell them some cheesy line about how he would never forget them, but he knew that they didn’t need any words to understand his sentiment.

**Author's Note:**

> It felt nice to write about my own country (Norway) for once ^^ I really like these two together, not as a ship nor a bromance, but just... Them, acknowledging each other's magical friends.
> 
> (I also hope that people are okay with me spewing out work after work, I've just found myself in a creative rush lately XD I'm currently working on a Hetalia AU as well, so there's lots more to come!)


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